


JAOA: Stage Four

by BlackRose (darthneko)



Series: JAOA [18]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-09
Updated: 2001-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthneko/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zen and the fine art of maintaining a Jedi Master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JAOA: Stage Four

**JAOA: Stage Four  
Year of the Republic 25,002**

* * *

Han found that doing katas all afternoon, until he was sore and winded, and then being quizzed on astronavigation and physics all evening was the perfect combination for a deep and dreamless sleep. Skywalker had not, he had to admit, been unmerciful - saber practice had been at a slow walkthrough, the Knight more interested in making sure of Han's knowledge of the forms then in the painstaking execution of them. The verbal quizzing, likewise, had been to place his knowledge level, with no penalty befalling a wrong answer. All the same, it had been a more intensive day then the boy was used to in the initiates' lessons and sleep was a welcome state.

It was the sound of the doorchime ringing through their quarters that woke him. Peeling open leaden eyes to face the sunlight streaming through the window of his room, Han realized it was already morning.

Scrambling out of bed, he quickly threw on a wrap over his sleeping trousers and paused to rake a hand through his disarrayed hair before tumbling into the main room after the door. Anakin was already there, attired identically to his Padawan, whom he waved back as he strode forward to palm off the lock.

"Yes, what... Master." Standing in the doorway, neatly dressed and perfectly wide awake, was General Kenobi. A faint smile hovered around his lips as he took in his former Padawan's rousted from bed state. Anakin scrubbed a hand over his eyes, frowning. "You're early," he accused.

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, stepping into the room as the Knight belatedly gave way. His gaze fell on Han and he nodded slightly. "Padawan. Good, you're awake."

Han stammered a response but Anakin cut him off, exasperated. "Master, you're supposed to be here for *morning meal*."

The General smiled at the younger man. "That's exactly what I'm here for. First meal. Which you won't be cooking."

Taking Anakin's shoulders, he turned the younger man back towards his sleeping chamber and gave him a small shove. "Go. Take a shower, get dressed, and take your time about it." His eyes turned back to Han, who unconsciously tried to make himself smaller. "Padawan, go get dressed and then come back out here. I'd like to talk to you."

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin protested. The Knight had not moved and was glaring at his former Master, hands fisted on his hips.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan mimicked mildly. Blue and gray eyes met and it was the blue that finally turned away.

"Why can't I ever win an argument with you?" the Knight sighed, turning back to his room. The Jedi Master, eyes bright, raised his voice as the door slid shut to insure that Anakin heard him.

"A good point. Padawan Solo, make a note of that. You'll never win an argument with your Master."

The sound of the lock engaging was clearly audible and Han watched, amazed, as General Kenobi laughed quietly. It made the man human, as though a veil had suddenly been drawn away and the boy could see past the legend to the person underneath. "He's never his best before his morning tea," the Master confided to him, chuckling softly. "Which," he added enigmatically, "is what I want to talk to you about. Go get dressed... Han, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Han mumbled. Darting back into his room, he hastily pulled on clean clothes, stamping into his boots and making another attempt at smoothing his hair before going back to the main room.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find but it wasn't General Kenobi, tunic sleeves rolled up, going through the small food preparation corner, gathering things together on the counter. Seeing him, Obi-Wan gestured him over and handed him the tea pot. "I assume you know how to make spice tea?" the General asked.

Blinking, Han nodded hesitantly. "Good," Kenobi said. "Do just what you would normally do. But use one half again the amount of tea leaf and steep it twice as long. Until it's black."

Han grimaced, remembering the scorchingly strong brew of the previous morning. "Do you *all* drink it like that?" he blurted, then snapped his mouth shut, aghast at himself.

Kenobi chuckled slightly. Leaning across the counter, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "No, we don't. But I'm going to teach you the secrets, Padawan, to a happier apprenticeship. The first of which is that if undrinkable tea will make your Master wake up happier, then you'd do well to provide it. And learn to dilute it when you drink it yourself."

Han hesitated, looking from the pot in his hands to the General and back again. "What's the second?" he asked finally.

Kenobi straightened, deftly gathering up the supplies he had chosen and beginning to sort them into something palatable. "Can you cook?" he asked in reply. "I assume you were taught some basics."

"Some," Han admitted. "We didn't do much."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I remember. Class learning, and no practical application. Well, pay attention. I'm going to teach you to how make an edible breakfast, and then you can say you know one more thing than your Master does."

Han's eyes widened. Hesitantly, he smiled, realizing the General was jesting with him. "Master Anakin doesn't cook? But I thought Padawans were supposed to..."

"Padawan Skywalker," Obi-Wan said firmly, "was forbidden to cook after I decided he was possibly trying to poison us both."

Some belated sense of loyalty came to Han's rescue. "He made morning meal yesterday," he objected. "It was..." he paused, trying to think of a good description that might do his Master justice.

"Tasteless?" Kenobi suggested. "Or overspiced? It's always either one or the other."

Han tried and failed to think of an alternative. "Tasteless," he agreed at last. "Except for the tea."

Kenobi nodded. "Secret number two," he instructed, slicing fruit into a bowl. "There's no reason not to make yourself comfortable as well as your Master. Anakin will never notice what you set in front of him for morning meal, as long as you wake him up with tea. So make whatever you like to eat and trust that he'll take whatever you give him."

Han nodded to himself and set about making the spice tea, grimacing as he measured out the dry leaves. He thought as he watched the Jedi Master from the corner of his eyes. "You and Master Anakin aren't much like each other," he said at last.

Kenobi didn't seem to take offense. "We're not at all alike," he agreed mildly. "Now, Qui-Gon and Anakin... the man should have been the boy's father, they're so similar." He jabbed the tip of the small knife he was holding at the pot Han was using. "Every habit Anakin has he acquired from Qui-Gon."

Han dusted the leaves into the heated water and closed the pot, seeing no reason to bother taking them out. "You were Master Jinn's Padawan, weren't you?" Kenobi nodded, watching him. Han regarded the older man levelly. "Then... you're telling me all the things you did, aren't you?

Obi-Wan grinned wryly. "Smart boy. Yes, I am."

"Why?" Blunt and to the point, it earned him a sharp look from the older man. Han flushed, ducking his head. "I mean... why tell me this, sir?"

The General regarded him for another moment, then shook his head slightly, setting the bowl of fruit slices aside. Han watched as the man choose ingredients, spices and nuts, throwing apparently random pinches in with the pot of warming cereal. The movements were too practiced to be spur of the moment and Han made an effort to at least remember what, if not how much. When he was done the older man covered the pot, setting the timer to finish. Only then did he turn back to Han.

"No," he said. The laughter had left his face, leaving him somber but not as threatening as Han had thought him the day before. "No, that wasn't what you meant. You meant 'why', just like you first said it, almost a challenge."

Cheeks burning, Han glanced away, staring at his booted toes. "Sir. I'm sorry, sir..."

"Don't be." Obi-Wan reached out, one hand almost, but not quite, brushing the fringe of Han's hair. It was a nearly identical gesture to the one Anakin used, an echo passed down from Master to Padawan. "We're not all of us diplomats, Padawan, and few indeed are born with it. A Jedi is made, trained and created, not drawn spontaneously from a child. You'll learn what you must, at his side. For now..." The General sighed softly, some of the wry humor returning to his grey eyes. "I think it's that very rashness that he likes in you. Anakin values individuality and strength. If - when - you become a Knight you will have learned to temper that quick tongue some. But for now, and especially when not in public, it does little harm."

Daring to glance up, Han let out a small breath. "Master Jinn said something like that. How we're all individuals, even Masters."

The dry smile grew. "Did he? Master Jinn talks far too much."

Startled, Han risked another glance. "But... you... and he..."

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied smoothly. "We are. I love him more than any other, but that doesn't stop me from knowing his faults. We are, none of us, perfect."

Han was saved from having to find an answer by the chime of the timer as the cover of the pot hissed open in a burst of steam, and by Anakin's reappearance at the door to his room. The Knight had dressed, pale hair still wet from the shower and trailing rivulets down his neck. He glared at them both equally as Obi-Wan, unmindful of the other man's sour look, spooned up bowls of the cereal and carried them to the table.

Following on the General's heels with the tea, Han quickly poured a cup and offered it to Anakin. The Knight took it, gaze still fixed on his former Master, and downed it in one smooth movement. Han aborted his motion to set the pot on the table, offering it to the man instead. Anakin took it, slightly surprised, then sighed and poured himself another cup as he hooked a chair with one ankle and seated himself. "Is that what this was all about?" he accused, pointing a stern finger towards the General as Obi-Wan took the seat across from him and gestured Han towards one as well. "Lessons on how a good Padawan should greet their Master in the morning?"

"Not at all," Obi-Wan replied smoothly, but Han's voice piped across his. "Yes."

Only when both men turned to look at him did Han pause to think what his response implied, after Kenobi had confided that Anakin had never been good at such things. Feeling his cheeks heat once more, he dropped his head, grimly stirring the cereal in his bowl. "Sorry."

Anakin chuckled, his hand brushing Han's shoulder. "At least you're honest. Don't apologize for that, Padawan."

Han swallowed, hiding his blush as well as he could with downcast gaze. The response was so unlike what he had come to expect from his teachers that he had to sneak a glance to see the usual, almost lazy smile on Skywalker's expression. The Knight's hand pressed his shoulder briefly, then withdrew.

Silence reigned for a time as they ate, broken only by the noise of utensil and movement. Once over his embarrassed self consciousness, Han ate with appetite, finishing faster than either of the men. Without even glancing in his direction Kenobi pushed the pot towards him, indicating he should finish it off if he liked. Anakin stirred his own half eaten bowl, then nudged it aside, reaching for the tea instead. The habitual smile had slipped away, replaced by the same thin drawn line between his brows that had settled there the morning before.

"Master," he said at last, voice low in the quiet of the room. "Did you speak to Master Qui-Gon?"

"I did." Kenobi's voice was calm and he did not glance up, though the other man shot him a sharp glance. "I also spoke to Master Yoda this morning."

Any pretense of calm drained from Skywalker like water through a sieve. Tense, the younger man's eyes trained on the General with an almost hungry gaze. "And?" The word was sharp, almost bitten off, demanding. Han silently sank lower in his chair, still and silent where he wouldn't be noticed.

Kenobi took a sip of his tea, the cup cradled in his hands. Grey eyes met blue, something unspoken passing between them. "It's agreed. I'll stand as primary guidance instructor during her time in the Temple."

Anakin let out a breath, dropping his gaze. Watching him, Han caught the slight tremble in the Knight's hands as he passed them over his eyes, rubbing. "And after?" he asked, less insistent. "If she chooses to stay?"

The General set his cup down. A shadow passed over his expression, darkening it, but his voice was gentle. "If that is her choice, I will take her as Padawan. You have my word, Anakin."

Han could almost feel Anakin's relief at that promise, like a palpable lifting of the tension around the man. Stretching out his hand, the Knight caught up his former Master's, pressing it tight. "Thank you," was all he said, but there were depths of emotion in the simple words.

Kenobi freed his hand, reaching across the width of the small table to briefly cup Anakin's cheek, his fingers trailing an almost intimate path down throat and shoulder. It was a tender gesture and after a moment Han placed it for what it was - the tracing of a line where once a sandy blonde braid would have hung over a younger Skywalker's chest. "You're welcome," Obi-Wan said mildly. "Will it reassure Amidala?"

"Yes." Anakin let out a sigh, his smile returning slightly, a little shaky. "Yes, it will. And the Council has promised to give me leave - I'll see that Luke is trained when the time comes, as much as he'll need."

"Good." Kenobi smiled in return, though it did not quite dispel the shadow in his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. His gaze shifted, abruptly including the quiet Han once more in the discussion. "I assume they've given you leave now, as well, to allow the two of you to settle." He frowned slightly, looking again at Han, who hadn't quite dared to move. "What's wrong, Padawan?"

Han shook his head, unwilling to voice the niggling scratch against his rattled nerves that had set the hair at the nape of his neck on end. "It's nothing," he started to say, but his voice cracked and he swallowed hastily.

Anakin reached out, catching the boy's chin and turning Han towards him. He peered at him intently for a moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Han," he said. The palm of his free hand pressed lightly to Han's forehead and abruptly the alarming jangle of Han's nerves quieted. The Knight smiled, slightly ruefully, and ruffled Han's hair before releasing him. "That was my fault. I didn't realize you could hear me."

Puzzled, Han ran a hand through his hair, scrubbing at the tingles in his head. Kenobi's eyebrows rose. "You're projecting too much?" he asked Anakin. "Or he's receiving?"

"A little of both." Unperturbed, Skywalker upended the last of the pot of tea into his cup, soaked leaf and all. His grin was slightly sheepish. "It's been awhile, Obi-Wan. And I'm not as good at shielding as you are."

Han started to open his mouth to ask what they meant, but was distracted by the unusual sight of an embarrassed flush staining General Kenobi's cheeks. The older man coughed, looking away from his former Padawan's laughing gaze. "Yes, well... it was needed."

Anakin chuckled, waving an admonishing finger at the older man. "Ah... tell the truth, Master. The two of you have never been so happy as you were when I passed my Trials and moved out of your quarters."

"Of course we were happy," Obi-Wan protested half heartedly. "You passed the Trials..."

"And moved out," Anakin finished, teasing. "I don't think anyone saw either of you for days."

Obi-Wan waved the comment away. "That's enough, Anakin," he said, but the firmness of his tone was ruined somewhat by his reluctant smile.

"Yes, sir," Anakin replied with all apparent meekness, but there was a glint in his eyes and a smile about his lips that would not be repressed. Obi-Wan shook his head, suppressing a laugh.

Han licked his lips, swallowing. "Master?" Two sets of eyes turned towards him automatically and he felt himself flush again. "What is it?" At Anakin's puzzled look, Han tapped his fingertips against his skull. "That... feeling. What is it?"

"Ah." Skywalker reached out, tugging gently on the tip of Han's braid. "The training bond. I'm not used to shielding from it any more."

Han closed his mouth sharply, startled. Kenobi looked them both over, then glanced sharply at Anakin. The younger man looked away. "I'm not..."

"Yes," Kenobi interrupted, "you are. You're so immersed in it you can't see it, but you're incredibly heavy handed, Anakin. A training bond isn't meant to run that deep, especially not at first. Even it out. The boy needs to meet you halfway."

Anakin grimaced. Closing his eyes briefly, he frowned, pressing the bridge of his nose between thumb and fingers. Han dimly felt something, as though a pressure he hadn't been aware of lifted, leaving him conscious only of its absence. Anakin glanced up, checking Han first and then turning to Kenobi. "Is that better?"

The General studied them both again, then nodded. "Yes. Try to keep it like that."

"I'll remember," Anakin assured him in a tone meant to forestall any prodding in that direction.

Kenobi just shook his head, then began to gather the dishes. Han leapt to help him, carrying them back and putting them in the cleaner. Anakin rescued his cup from their attentions, draining the last swallow of nearly opaque black tea from it. Han caught the quick gesture as Anakin fished out the waterlogged leaves before handing him the cup, slipping them into his cheek on the pretext of licking fruit juice from his thumb. The Knight grinned at him and Han ducked further scuffing of his hair, provoking a laugh from the older man.

The General, whom Han would have bet a fair amount was not watching the exchange, plucked the cup from Han's hand and slipped it neatly into the cleaner. "Anakin," he said mildly, "stop that. You know Amidala hates it."

The younger man sighed but obediently spat the leaves into the disposal. "You hate it more then she does."

"And what do you think you're teaching your Padawan?" Kenobi asked pointedly, glancing at Han.

The boy answered before his Master could, honest confusion creasing his brow. "Chewing spice leaves? General Kenobi, sir... that's something kids do. It's nothing."

Knight and Master stared at him for a moment, and then Skywalker began laughing, leaning against the counter as he chuckled. The General's expression was unreadable but Han, close to Anakin's side, couldn't help but smile as well as the older Master finally sighed and turned back to tidying, patently ignoring the both of them.

Finished, Kenobi turned back to them. "I don't know which of you will be a worse influence on the other," he pronounced. Glancing at Anakin, he jerked his chin slightly towards the door of the suite. "Well?"

Anakin touched Han's shoulder. The Knight was still grinning broadly, his look a shared joke between them. "Go get your lightsaber, Han. I invited Obi-Wan to watch us practice."

Han glanced at the General's slightly exasperated expression and bit back a groan. Still, even with the promise of gaining new bruises on top of his old, there was a tickle within him that shared the laughter in his Master's eyes and lifted his spirits so that he could return the grin with a touch of cockiness as he scrambled to get his saber and follow the two men from the room.

[...to next stage]


End file.
